


Cat Like Thief

by badvibrations



Category: Billionaire Boys Club (2018)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Body Image, Body Worship, Confessions, F/M, Praise Kink, Unprotected Sex, plus size reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 12:04:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21337957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badvibrations/pseuds/badvibrations
Summary: You don't look like the other girls that run in Dean's circle, so you cannot help but feel excluded. But Dean knows how to help.
Relationships: Dean Karny/You, Taron Egerton/Reader, Taron Egerton/You
Kudos: 31





	Cat Like Thief

Mini skirts, mesh tops, and body paint. The girls at the Halloween party have pulled out all the stops and make your Blues Brothers costume look like a garbage bag. Over and over, you had insisted that you were uncomfortable with dressing up for the parties that you would attend with your friend, Dean, but he is persistent to a wearying extent. He always makes the situation out to be life or death – you have to go to these parties, otherwise the world will end.

Halloween is always the worst, especially since more girls began hanging around, and you became abundantly aware of the main difference between you and them. Before, you were the only girl in your group of friends, and you had the undivided attention of all the boys during your hangouts. You always told yourself the relationship was that of a group of siblings – you were the sister of the Billionaire Boys Club, and they always had you at the center of their collective universe. Until the other girls made their way into the hearts of the young men.

Dean, being your best friend, stuck with you the longest, even as the ever-so enchanting Q began to drive a wedge between the two of you. You did not blame her; Dean was quite a catch, with his bedroom eyes and his sharp jaw, just to name the features that are enough to draw a woman in. Not that you gave it much attention – but then again, of course you did. How could you not?

Long abandoned by your so-called friends, you sit at the center of the curved booth, chasing the mint leaf around your Southside with the cocktail stirrer. You peg it with the end of the stirrer and guide it along the glass to the rim before letting it slip back into the liquid. Snatching up the glass, you raise it to your lips, downing the remainder of your first – and probably only – cocktail of the night.

“What’s the matter, Jake Blues? Don’t feel like shakin’ a tail feather tonight?” The almost shrill tone of Sydney’s voice only causes you to roll your eyes behind your sunglasses, and thank God for the eyewear otherwise this gesture would have caused a problem.

“It’s Elwood. Kyle is Jake.” You keep your reply simple, reminding her that you are dressed as your favorite of the Blues Brothers, while one of your friends had dressed to match. The girl laughs in response, raising a hand to bring her cigarette to her lips for another puff.

“Isn’t Jake the fat one, though?” A chorus of laughs echoes from Sydney’s friends, who you had not noticed standing nearby, and they all flock around your table as if to form a wall in front of you. “Either way,” Sydney continues. “Great choice.” The sarcasm drips from each syllable, but you are used to the ignorance. The insults that they hurl your way are nothing more than schoolyard bullying the likes of which you have been dealing with for long before you met them.

Instead of allowing it to ruin your night, you do not engage, which only seems to madden them further to the point that they abandon you in search of weaker prey. Once you are left alone again, you decide that maybe another mixed drink is in order – something stronger perhaps. You slip from the booth, straightening out your suit as you make your way towards the bar on the opposite side of the room. During your journey, you spot Dean, dressed like Leonard Kosnowski much to your delight, but is unfortunately stood far too close to Q for your liking.

But why does that bother you? Allowing your eyes to linger somewhat longer than you should have, you see Dean’s hands take hold of Q’s hips, guiding her along as they begin to dance. From the distance, you can clearly see how firmly Dean’s fingers dig into the girl, and your mind immediately makes a note of how slim her hips are. Of course he is interested in her; you would have to be crazy not to find her flawless.

Again, the question flashes in your head: why does it bother you that one of your best friends is having a fun time with another girl? As you go over the reasons in your head, you finally reach the bar and opt to order a sparkling water in an effort to keep your mind clear for the night. The bartender sets the glass down before you, and you toss the cash to him, turning on your heel to head back to your booth only to be face to face with Dean.

“Hey, you,” he says, reaching out to pull the sunglasses from your face. “On a mission from God?” His words drag just enough to let you know that he has had at least a few drinks so far, but looking into his eyes, you do not see the glazed over look that generally comes along with his drug of choice.

“Something like that,” you mutter, snatching the glasses back from him and slipping them into your jacket pocket. “Having fun?” As Dean’s face scrunches thoughtfully, you take a sip of your water, which immediately distracts Dean from his original task.

“Hey!” he says, in frustration. “Why aren’t you drinking?”

“I am drinking, as this cylindrical receptacle filled with liquid might imply.”

“Alright, smartass. You know what I’m talking about.” 

“I don’t feel like getting drunk, Dean.” For a moment, you look over the slicked back hair, the tight white shirt, and the red Lone Wolf jacket before you realize that you are staring, and direct your attention back to his face. “I’m thinking of calling it a night,” you say with a shrug. “Catching a cab back to the house.”

“Why?” he asks.

“You know why.”

“Fine. Go home.” The look on Dean’s face makes it clear to you that he has quickly become irritated with you, and you stare back at him, not hiding your own displeasure. “If you’re not gonna do anything except mope around all night, then there’s no point in you being here, and bringing everyone else down.” Your eyes widen in surprise; never in the years that you have known Dean has he spoken to you in such a manner. You assume from the quick change in Dean’s face after he speaks that he has immediately realizes the mistake that he made. “Let me drive you home,” he says, his voice much softer this time.

“What, and let you miss the opportunity to get a blowjob from Q in the bathroom after you do a rail off the toilet seat?” As Dean fumbles with a response, you finish off your drink, and set the glass onto the counter. Opting to not say anything else to Dean, you push your way out of the club, hailing a taxi to get out of the nightmare that you put yourself in.

By the time you reach the house that you shared with Dean and Joe, you notice the sports car sitting in the driveway, and you wrack your brain to figure out how Dean managed to beat you home when you left first. You think he probably has dragged Q back home with him to take her to bed in an effort to bother you with their moans and groans of pleasure. Already, you plan to put a record on as soon as you reach your bedroom.

Dean is standing in the living room when you enter the house, Q nowhere in sight. You keep your gaze on him as you slip the jacket from your arms and remove your hat, hanging them in the hall closet.

“Is Q hiding in your room or something?” you ask, loosening the tie from around your neck.

“No one else is here,” he says, a certain tightness to his response. You toe off your dress shoes, and lean down to pick them up as Dean speaks again. “What happened?” he inquires once you are facing him again. “Last year, we did practically everything together, and you were so much more outgoing. All of a sudden, you changed.” You yank the tie over your head and let out a sigh, ignoring Dean as you walk towards your bedroom. Much to your dismay, you hear him following closely behind you, his footsteps echoing louder from the heavy boots he wears. “You don’t want to go out anymore,” he continues, standing in the doorway of your room. “And when you do, you dress like someone died.”

“It’s a fucking Halloween party, Dean,” you say, throwing your shoes into the closet. “You wanna ease off?”

“Not just tonight,” he points out. “You never dress up. Always with the sweaters and the jeans, even when we go someplace nice.” You cross your arms over your body and stare back at Dean. “You didn’t have to be one of the Blues Brothers tonight,” he says. “I asked you to be my Laverne, and you told me no.”

“I didn’t feel comfortable.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not like Q,” you say, quickly. “I’m not like Syd or Rosanna, or any of the other girls whose tits you like to do blow off of.” Dean only looks back at you with confusion, shrugging his shoulders to indicate that he does not understand your point. “You try to get me to dress up like these skinny, pretty girls but I’m not like them,” you clarify. “I don’t feel comfortable showing off my body because I don’t look like them.”

“That shouldn’t matter.”

“But it does, Dean,” you say. “You don’t see the looks and the comments I get, but ever since the girls started coming around more, it’s been nonstop.”

“The girls say shit to you?” At this question, you can see the sudden change in Dean’s face; his look has hardened, an anger brewing inside of him very quickly. “What do they say?” he asks. You shake your head, and wave your hand dismissively.

“It’s not important,” you say. “The point is that you try to get me to be someone I’m not. I still have a hard time understanding why you choose to hang out with me, but–”

“Because you’re my friend,” he interrupts.

“Dean, I drag you down.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” he asks, incredulously. “You think because you’re not a petite double zero, that I shouldn’t be spending time with you?” When Dean says this, you sigh at how ridiculous it must sound to him, but you nod your head anyway. “We’ve known each other for a long time,” Dean continues. “I care about you very much, and I love hanging out with you. Over this last year, you’ve been pulling away from me, and I’ve been trying desperately to keep you involved, but you act like you don’t want it.”

“It’s not fun for me to go to a party and see Q practically humping your leg, Dean.”

“Why do you keep bringing up Q?” he asks, holding his hands out for emphasis. “What is it about her that sets you off?”

“She is what drove me away,” you admit, finally. “She pushed me away from you so she could dig her claws in, and you let her.” Dean drops his hands to his sides as you continue venting the feelings you never knew you had. “I may have tricked myself into thinking that I would be good enough for the likes of Dean Karny,” you press on. “But when she came along, I realized I didn’t stand a chance.”

“Because of your body, is that it?”

“I’ve always had issues with my body,” you say. “I’m aware that I have a different body type that is frowned upon, but it wasn’t until they started hanging around that I was made abundantly aware of how unwelcome I am in your social circle.”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” he says, his voice low as he takes a step closer and places his hands on his hips. “There is always a place for you in my life; don’t ever think otherwise. As far as the rest goes, I never knew you felt like this. You haven’t let me close enough to find out.”

“Because you’re too busy with–”

“You wouldn’t be my Laverne!” he exclaims. “I asked you to be the other part of my couple’s costume, and you didn’t want to. You never let me dance with you, and you certainly never let me touch you. Believe me, I have tried.” Now you are the one to be confused, attempting to understand what Dean has said to you, but your brain is in overdrive. “For all I knew, you were repulsed by me,” he adds.

“Repulsed by you?” you ask, moving to him and shoving him by his chest. “You fucking asshole! You know you’re gorgeous, and so charming that it’s irritating.” A small smirk becomes noticeable on Dean’s lips, but you do not let it deter you – you jab your finger in his chest. “You dressed as my favorite TV character,” you say, looking down at his outfit.

“I know,” Dean chuckles. “Joe told me. Why do you think I did this?” You cannot comprehend the words that he speaks, nothing is sinking in or you do not believe what he says, so you can only swallow hard and take a step away from him. “What?” he asks. “Did I say something wrong?”

“You’re just…you’ve had a lot to drink tonight.”

“I haven’t,” he says, shaking his head. “Two mixed drinks at the start of the night, that’s it. I didn’t even do any lines.”

“What are you trying to say to me, Dean?” you ask. “Just say it and stop–” He moves faster than you expect, one hand under your chin to lift your head up as he presses his lips to yours. You freeze against him, and he makes no effort to deepen the kiss or touch you any further before he breaks away.

“Does that clear things up?” he whispers, eyes searching your face for a response. “I’m not generally so dramatic, but I had to shut you up.” You scoff, grasping Dean’s wrist and pulling his hand away from your face.

“Dean–”

“You have to stop,” he laughs. “Whatever it is that makes you think that you aren’t good enough, or don’t deserve to be happy…just forget about it. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“I understand,” he nods. “But I want to make it easier for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you trust me?” There is a long pause after his question, as you wrack your brain for your response; when you notice Dean chuckle quietly, you let out a quick sigh and nod your head.

“Yeah, I do.”

Dean takes your hand and walks you towards your bed, where he sits on the edge of the mattress, with you in front of him. For a moment, he makes no moves, only looks over your body, still covered by the dress shirt and slacks. When he grasps your shirt and pulls it from where you have it tucked into your shirt, your heart begins to pound in your chest. Once the shirt is untucked, he looks up into your eyes and holds his hands out as if to prove he means no harm, but as his fingers move for the bottom buttons of your shirt, you panic, grabbing his hands to stop him.

“Sweetheart,” he says, smiling warmly. “How long has it been since you’ve let anyone see your body?” The question strikes a nerve, though you try to hide your surprise as you pull in a deep breath.

“I don’t remember,” you mumble. “A long time.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m fat,” you reply simply. “My body is disgusting, and don’t for one second think that you can change my mind. I see the kind of girls you and the boys chase after. Not a single one of them looks like me.” Dean scoffs, gently taking your hands in his.

“I’ve been chasing after you for a while now,” Dean says. “You just haven’t slowed down long enough for me to catch you.” Your nerves are not calmed by his statement, but your heart certainly skips a beat when you note the sincerity in his eyes. “You said you trust me,” Dean says. “So just let me show you.”

With a nod of your head, you take your hands from his grasp and drop your arms to your sides, looking down at Dean with a gulp. He keeps his eyes on your face, slowly unbuttoning your shirt, only pausing when he reaches your breasts. You pull in a sharp breath, and carefully slip your hands past his, continuing to unbutton your shirt on your own.

When you finally slip the last button free, you look away from Dean, feeling your hands tremble as you guide the material from your arms and drop it to the floor. You make no effort to look at him immediately, bracing yourself for the moment where he changes his mind. As you are about to speak, you feel Dean’s fingers ever-so lightly tracing along your stomach. You drop your gaze to Dean, finding him completely fixated on every inch of your skin.

“This…” he trails off, looking up at you with wonder in his eyes. “This is what you’ve been keeping from me this whole time?” His hands travel over your ribs, around to your sides, along the stomach that you have always struggled with but under his tender touch suddenly feel less insecure about. When his hands slip around to your back, guiding you to step closer towards him, you grab onto his shoulders to steady yourself. “You’re so soft,” he whispers, planting kisses along your stomach. “I love it.”

For a moment, his fingers tighten on your sides, and you suck in a sharp breath through your teeth, clenching more firmly to the satin of his jacket. He quickly looks up to you, and his hands go flat on your sides once again, as he searches your face.

“Was that not okay?” he asks, hurriedly. “I just…I’ve tried to envision what it would feel like to touch you, but I never thought it would feel this good.” Noting the sincerity in Dean’s face, you place your hands on the sides of his face, holding him in place as you lean down to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“You don’t have to do this,” you whisper, your forehead pressed to his. “Just because you think that I…need–”

“I want to do this,” he responds, his eyes cutting down. When you realize that he is staring at your cleavage that is practically spilling from your bra, your face flushes and you stand upright once again. Dean is breathing shallow, lips parted and pupils blown. “I need to do this,” he mumbles, hands now moving towards the button of your pants.

With a small hum, Dean has your pants undone and slides them off of your hips so they pool around your ankles. You use one hand to grab Dean’s shoulder in an effort to steady yourself as you lean down to remove your pants and socks. Before you can stand up again, Dean takes your hips in his hands, pulling you into his lap.

“Dean!” you gasp, grabbing his shoulders again as you try to keep your weight on your knees.

“You didn’t answer me before,” he mumbles. “Why have you been keeping these hidden from me for this whole time?”

You do not have the opportunity to respond before he presses his mouth to your breast, kissing across to the other before he leaves a small bite. The sudden sensation sends a jolt through you, and you grab his head, bringing him back towards you for a more passionate kiss. This time, when Dean’s hands begin to take strong handfuls of your sides, he does not stop until you are certain he is leaving bruises.

“Tell me,” he breathes, pulling back from the kiss so he can peer into your eyes. “Tell me what you don’t like about yourself…” He moves in for another kiss. “…and I’ll tell you why I love it.”

The way he speaks to you sends your heart soaring, and you grasp the sides of his face to tip his head back enough for you to see him completely. There is a look in his eyes unlike you had ever seen from him before – a sort of need as if he cannot hold back his feelings. When a smile slowly spreads across his lips, you feel some tension begin to slip away from your body. Suddenly, Dean hums, his hands that were on your hips now move to your thighs, squeezing hard. He guides you from his lap, onto the mattress as he stands at the foot of the bed.

“Lay down,” he instructs, nodding his head towards you. At first, you do not move, but instead watch him slip the jacket from his arms – the sight of his tight white shirt distracts you immediately. “Sweetheart,” he says, with a soft laugh. “Lay down.”

Finally, you comply, relaxing back onto your elbow while you continue to watch Dean strip down to nothing but his Jockeys. There is a distinct hunger in his eyes, something that you are not accustomed to seeing, but as he climbs onto the bed and you relax onto your back, you instinctively move your arms to cover your body from his prying eyes. He gently takes hold of your forearms, and guides your arms above your head.

“Don’t hide from me,” he whispers. “I want to see all of you.” You swallow hard, nodding your head as Dean’s eyes cut quickly around your form.

“I don’t like my stomach.” You finally respond to his statement from before, and as soon as the words leave your lips, Dean is staring into your eyes, as if he does not believe what you say.

“You don’t?” he asks. “It’s so…soft.” He scoots lower on his knees so he can lean over your stomach. He starts pressing more kisses to your skin while his hands once more grab handfuls of your extra weight. “I love how it feels,” he mumbles, and you feel as though he is talking more to himself. “I never thought…fuck, I can’t believe it took me so long.” Suddenly, you feel his teeth on your skin, biting down hard near your belly button, and you gasp loudly. “Was that okay?” When he asks, you does not bother looking up, but continues to kiss and bite your stomach.

“No one’s ever…” You trail off, shaking your head when you feel yourself growing wet from what Dean does to you. Your mind cannot focus on anything long enough to speak coherently, and all you can do is say, “I don’t like my thighs, either.” Dean growls against your stomach, slowly lifting his head to peer up at you.

“Really?” he asks, his hands grasping your thighs firmly. “Because I was just picturing how great it would feel for them to wrap around my head while I eat you out.” Your eyes water, your face flushing furiously, and the wetness between your thighs increases – you cannot think of a time in your life where you were more aroused. “For a start, anyway,” he mumbles, pressing another kiss to your stomach.

“What about for a finish, then?”

“Well,” he chuckles. “It would be nice to feel your thick…soft thighs around my waist…while I bury my cock inside of you.” Dean crawls back up your body, hovering over you with a wide grin as he undoubtedly notices the painful arousal that is coursing through you. “You know,” he begins. “I want to leave hickies all over your body, and focus on making you feel like the queen that you are…but all I can think about in this exact moment is how badly I wanna fuck you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Dean nods, kissing you softly. “I’m trying to picture what it would feel like to get inside of you, and how warm and inviting your pussy must be.”

“Fuck me, Dean.” You surprise yourself – you have never been one to be blunt, and forthcoming with your desires, but in that moment, the way Dean looks into your eyes while he tells you what he likes about you, you feel safe to admit your desires.

“Are you begging me to fuck you?” he asks. “As sweet as it sounds, you don’t have to beg.” His face presses against your neck, biting gently and letting out a slow breath. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my whole life,” he says, against your skin. Something clicks in your head, and you gently shove him off of you, so he lays on his back beside you. A shocked look spreads across his face, but is immediately replaced by a smirk when you maneuver around to kneel between his legs. “What are you planning?” he asks.

You ignore him, getting lost in how delicious he looks in nothing but his tight red briefs. The urge to leave marks on him becomes overwhelming, and as your glide your fingers along his abdomen, you let out a heavy breath – you have to fight the urge.

“You’re fucking beautiful.” No one has ever said it to you before, apart from your family. Your hands pause on his chest, fingers digging into his pecs.

“You…are beautiful,” you respond. Dean smirks widely, taking hold of your face and pulling you down so he can kiss you with great force and passion.

While you are kissing, and you are certain that you have Dean distracted, you slip your hand into his briefs, grasping his erection. He releases a soft gasp into your mouth, hurrying to break away from the kiss and watching you pull his erection from his briefs. Dipping your head down, you trail your tongue over his tip, before blowing a soft gust of air onto it.

“Fuck,” he hisses, covering his face with both hands and shivering ever-so slightly. “You don’t have to do this…”

“But I want to,” you reply, licking his tip again.

“Yeah? You want my cock?” Dean drops one hand to press to the back of your head, lowering your mouth around his erection; when he lets out a deep groan, you start to bob your head over him, feeling yourself grow wetter from the sounds he made. “God, sweetheart,” he whispers, his hands setting on your shoulders. “You’re so fucking good at this.” You hum around his length, your eyes cutting up towards his face.

The look on his face is something you had never expected to see: lips parted, eyes closed, eyebrows raised as if he is completely vulnerable underneath you. His legs begin to fidget, as if he is fighting the urge to throw you down and take what he wants the most.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “Just like that.” You take him as deep as you can into your mouth, still peering up at him so he can see your eyes water as you struggle to hold his length. “Holy shit,” he hisses. “Stay right there. Right there.”

You hold him deep in our mouth, his size making it difficult to keep him for too long, however, you push through, watching through watery eyes as Dean fidgets beneath you. Finally, you release him from your mouth, breathing heavily, licking your lips and stroking your hand over his length. You stick your tongue out and drag it slowly along the underside of his shaft and watch how Dean shudders, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

“Does it feel good?” you whisper, your fist slowly working over him still.

Dean nods his head, and you notice a very soft tremble in his hands as he shoves you back from him. He moves you around so you are on your back once again, and you begin to scoot higher up the bed to rest on your pillows. Once he slips off his briefs, he is after you in a heartbeat, kneeling beside you and coaxing you forward with a crook of his finger.

“I want to see…” he trails off, pressing a kiss to your lips when you sit up to face him. “…these.” His fingers ghost over your cleavage, making their way around to the hooks of your bra; only a fleeting feeling of self-consciousness courses through you, that is easily pushed aside when you see the very obvious desire in his eyes. “Oh, wow,” he whispers, as he slips the bra from your arms, finally letting his eyes roam over your breasts. “I can’t…”

Both of Dean’s hands find their way to your breasts, cupping them fully and wasting no time leaning his head down to flick his tongue over your nipple. You moan softly when you feel his fingers grasp your breasts more firmly and his teeth tug at your nipple.

“Dean, oh, God,” you gasp, threading your fingers through his hair to keep him close. 

His teasing does not last long, before he is kissing your lips again, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. You are not immediately aware of him dragging your panties down your thighs, but when you feel air against your heat, you break from the kiss, looking up into his eyes.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “I wanna see all of you. Please?” You nod your head, watching him pull your panties from your legs, and throw them to the side.

“Dean, I just want you to fuck me.”

“Mmmm, you don’t want me to taste you first?” he inquires, fingers teasing your folds.You shudder under the contact, biting your bottom lip. “I would love to have you writhing around, begging me to fuck you.”

“Dean,” you whine.

“Hmm?” he hums, as he watches you shift around, trying to press yourself against his hand. “I told you I want you to feel like a queen.”

“How are you gonna do that?” you ask, threading your fingers through his hair as he begins to settle between your legs. His gaze moves back up to your face, a cheeky glint in his eyes while he runs his tongue across his lips.

“Look at how fucking pretty this pussy is,” he whispers. He traces his fingers along your folds, parting them so he can eye you up more carefully. “And I’ll bet it’s tasty, too,” he adds, flicking his tongue over your clit. “Fuck, I was right.”

“Mmm, this is why I didn’t want you to go down on me,” you whisper, taking a deep breath. “You’re gonna fucking tease me.” He pushes his tongue into your entrance, releasing open-mouth moans against your core, as if he is trying to let you know he is just as turned on as you are.

You gasp, arching your back as you bring both of your hands down to grasp his head, pressing his face closer to you, practically begging him to tongue you deeper. He chuckles against your skin, hooking his arms under your legs and draping them over his shoulders. He continues to push his tongue into your entrance, his fingers holding on tight to your thighs.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” you whisper. Dean hums against you, dragging his tongue up towards your clit. He sucks on your clit, moaning as loud as possible so you could hear him.

“God, you’re sopping wet, huh?” Dean asks, peering up at you, as he bites along your inner thigh. “Have you ever been this wet before?”

“No, I haven’t,” you whine, watching Dean sucking on the places he bit. You wiggle beneath him, catching his attention; he smirks at you when he sees the needy look on your face. “Please just fuck me,” you whisper.

“I can get used to hearing you beg for my cock,” he whispers, pushing your legs from his shoulders and climbing up towards you. He kisses you roughly, pushing your head into the pillows, and you immediately wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling his body tighter to yours.

While he has you distracted, he slides inside of you, grunting softly into your mouth. You break away from the kiss and look up into his eyes and let out a moan – it has been far too long since you have been with anyone, and even then, none of them were quite the size of Dean. When you peer up at him, you feel your body flush deeper at the sight: biting his lip, slowly beginning to thrust into you, Dean is focused already.

You pull your legs around his body, your knees pressing against his sides as you feel the soft touch of his fingers as they trail down the outside of your thighs. A shock is sent through your body, straight to your core when Dean suddenly slaps your thighs, just before gripping them tightly. His face presses against your neck, teeth ever-so softly leaving playful bites along your skin on the way to your breasts. Upon being faced with your ample breasts – which are bouncing slowly with each pointed thrust of his hips against yours – Dean lets out a deep growl, glancing back to your face with a hunger that is completely insatiable.

“Your tits, sweetheart,” he mutters, biting along the flesh. “What if I…” He rolls his hips into you hard, making you yelp at the force, before he continues, “wanna fuck them? Pushing your tits together so I can squeeze my dick in between them? Would that be something you would be interested in?”

"Mmm, maybe,” you whisper, slipping your hands around him to grasp his backside. ‘But not yet.” You spank him playfully, watching the mix of shock and amusement on his face. “C'mon, fuck me,” you mutter.

“Oh, you wanna be like that, huh?” Dean asks, pushing into you all the way. He grinds himself against you, watching the way that you writhe around beneath him. “Mmm, because I can keep going like this,” he continues. “Slow…so fucking slow, let me enjoy this beautiful body of yours. I would really fucking like that…and you have no idea how long I can last.”

Finding the confidence you thought you had long lost, you push him off of you so he is laying on his back beside you. Quickly, you straddle him, pressing your hands to his chest as you rest all of your weight on your knees. Dean tries to slip himself back into you, but you don’t let him, instead keep just enough space between your bodies to gently grind yourself against his erection.

“Well, you’re a tease, too, aren’t you?” he huffs, hands on your hips, desperate to pull you down onto him completely. You smirk, slipping your hand between your bodies, and grasp his length, rubbing the head against your folds. “For someone who was begging to be fucked,” he whispers. “You sure aren’t acting like you want it.”

Very carefully, you press Dean’s tip into your entrance and guide him all the way inside of you, settling your weight onto him fully once he is buried in to the hilt. Dean breathes heavily as he looks up at you, his hands squeezing your thighs so tightly, you are certain there are going to be heavy bruises left in his wake.

You waste no time, beginning to ride him, just as slow as the pace that he had started. Dean’s hands drag up your sides, stopping by your ribs; his hands slide around to grab your breasts, cupping them with his slender fingers. You close your eyes, lifting your hands up to run your fingers through your hair, intentionally arching into Dean’s touch.

“Fucking unreal,” Dean groans, his grip tightening on your breasts. Your gaze falls back to Dean’s face, loving the way that his eyes take on your body as your pace quickens on top of him. He drags his bottom lip between his teeth, biting it hard as he presses his head back against the pillow.

Your hands set on the mattress on either side of Dean, boxing him between your arms as you bounce yourself on top of him. With his hands still cupping your breasts, Dean lifts his head to place more bite marks on your chest before dragging his tongue over your nipples one at a time. His teeth tug at one of your nipples, making you let out a yelp but Dean only chuckles, relaxing against the pillows and holding onto your hips again.

The way Dean looks at you, like you’re the most important and beautiful thing in the world, makes you stomach do flips. His bottom lip is between his teeth again, eyes staring into yours. Suddenly, he grabs onto the backs of your thighs, easing you to a stop and making you set your weight entirely on your knees. Before you can ask what is wrong, he immediately starts thrusting up, burying himself into you deep and fast. He lets out long grunts mixed with soft moans, and the sound is music to your ears.

“C'mere,” he whispers, wrapping one of his arms around your waist and threading his other hand in your hair, pulling you flush against him.

While he still thrusts into you with all that he has, you cannot stop yourself from moaning, a sound far more vulgar than you have ever released, but Dean’s mouth is on yours to stifle the sound. You moan into his mouth, hands clinging to his shoulders, getting caught up in a sloppy, passionate kiss that is just as rough as the slamming of his hips against you. You finally drag your mouth from Dean’s, burying your face against his neck to muffle your moans of his name.

“Yeah, you gonna come?” he pants. “You’re already close, sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh,” you groan against his skin.

“I want to see how beautiful you look when I’m inside of you, making you come.”

“Dean,” you moan, spreading your legs wider. His hand grasp your thighs, pinning them down against the bed. He begins to piston his hips against you, pounding into you forcefully, and your body is already aching.

“C'mon, sweetheart, come for me,” he urges. “I can feel this tight little pussy clenching, I know you’re almost there. You are so goddamn beautiful, I can’t believe it.”

“Oh, God, Dean,” you gasp, dropping your hand between your bodies and rubbing at your sweet spot. Dean bites his lip, looking down at your hand, trying to hide the grin on his face. “Fuck me harder, Dean,” you pant, catching his attention. “I’m so close, please.”

“Anything for my queen.” He presses his weight down harder onto your thighs, pounding into you relentlessly, with a motion of his hips that is so sexy that you cannot believe how fluid and smooth he moves.. You moan loudly, arching up towards Dean, while your free hand cups your breast. Dean lets out his own sounds of pleasure, his brow furrowing as he looks down at you. “Christ,” he mutters, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. “I can’t believe I finally get to feel you after all this time.”

As you look up at him, with his mouth agape, brow knitted, breathy moans falling from his throat, you feel your climax closing in on you. Tilting your head to glance at the mirror of your dresser across from the bed, seeing the reflection of Dean pinning you to the bed beneath him, treating you like he feels you deserve, your orgasm hits you hard.

You squeeze your eyes shut, moaning out Dean’s name and bouncing your hips up to continue to meet each of his thrusts. With a loud moan of your name, Dean drops down to rest his weight on his forearms on either side of you, pressing his forehead to yours.

“So tight, so hot.” He continues to slam into you, helping you ride out your orgasm while he creeps closer to his own. With a few more sloppy, untimed thrusts, he spills inside of you, releasing the beautiful moans you had longed to hear.

With a groan, Dean rolls off of you, collapsing onto the bed beside you; he tugs you towards him, and you instinctively wrap your arms around him. You feel his heart pounding in his chest as your body trembles against his. Dean hums softly, kissing the top of your head as he tightens his arms around you.

“That was a long time coming,” he whispers.

“You should have said something sooner.”

“With a body like this, you’re out of my league.”

“Oh, shut up,” you laugh, kissing his chest before you tip your head back enough to look up at his face. “You meant everything you said, didn’t you? I mean, you didn’t just say it to…get laid tonight, right?”

“Are you kidding me?” he asks. “I meant every word. And I’ll tell you again and again, and again until you believe me. Even then, I won’t stop telling you, and I won’t stop kissing you, and I won’t stop fucking you, as long as you’ll let me, because I know how to take care of my queen.” For a moment, you feel your eyes water, but Dean quickly presses a tender kiss to your lips.

“So,” you breathe against his lips, cutting your eyes up at him from under your lashes. “Does this mean that you’re my king?”


End file.
